


brighter things than diamonds

by thelivingautomaton



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Episode: s01e01 Pilot, Episode: s01e05 Livewire, F/M, Family Issues, IDK how to tag things???, Identity Reveal, Love Confessions, Pre-Series, Speculation, Unrequited Love, Winn finally does the thing, actually a happy ending, even more specifically: Winn's dad is Not A Very Nice Person At All, kryponite sucks, long-winded ending notes are my trademark, moderate blood/violence in chapter 5, more specifically: Winn's family issues, more tags to be added as parts go up, well sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-04 10:42:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5331212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelivingautomaton/pseuds/thelivingautomaton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Winn says "I love you," and the one time Kara hears it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. i

**Author's Note:**

> This is a surprise early Christmas present for Jillian, one of my IRL best friends in the world in addition to being my one true companion in the Kara/Winn trashcan. Merry happy, hon. ;) 
> 
> Title is from "The Young Thousands" by the Mountain Goats, one of the best songs of all time. The lyric in question: “There must be diamonds somewhere in a place that stinks this bad / There are brighter things than diamonds, coming down the line.” Enjoy!

Winn Schott was going to die.

He knew that, of course. Everybody dies sooner or later. That was just a fact -- an often sad and random fact -- of life. He’d thought that he was one of those in the "later" category, but certain evidence now seemed to imply he was heading toward the other direction. Namely, the memo on his desk asking him to please see Cat Grant in her office to discuss his work. _Immediately_.

Okay, so maybe he didn't mean "dying" quite so literally. But he was _definitely_ getting fired, and that was almost the same thing.

Winn furtively glanced from the memo to Cat’s office, then let out a sigh of relief. She wasn’t looking for him, thank God. After a few more surreptitious looks interspersed between typing on his computer and pretending to do actual work, he judged that Cat was busy having a discussion with...hmm. A woman Winn didn’t recognize, or not when he only saw her from behind. She had long, blonde hair tied back in a ponytail and was wearing dark blue. At least Cat was occupied for now.

Winn turned in his chair to face the empty desk across from his, formerly occupied by Cat’s last assistant. She’d only been at CatCo for three days. Winn wasn’t even sure how she’d left. He had just come in this morning, and all of her things were gone. Shame, she was kind of nice. Not that Winn really knew her, though -- hell, he couldn’t even remember her name. Linda? Melissa? They’d exchanged general pleasantries the few times they saw each other, but...well, he’d been working on this floor long enough to know that none of Cat’s assistants lasted. So he tried not to get close to them. It only made things worse when the inevitable happened.

Abruptly, the desk and the woman in Cat’s office linked together in Winn’s mind, and he nodded to himself. If this stranger was talking to Cat face-to-face, it meant she’d gotten the job and Cat was now testing her to ensure she didn’t break down with one cutting remark. That made sense. Winn grimaced, imagining the conversation they were having. He hoped it wasn’t too traumatizing. He’d been on the receiving end of that plenty of times.

He shifted his gaze to get a closer look at the potential assistant and instead locked eyes with Cat Grant. Winn froze. Cat, staring directly at him, frowned meaningfully and made a ‘come here’ gesture. Winn suddenly remembered that when Cat said “immediately,” she _meant_ immediately. _I am so dead_ , he thought. This thought continued as he stood up and walked toward Cat's office at the slowest pace he could manage while still looking like a punctual, model, not-filled-with-terror employee. _She’s gonna eviscerate me in front of her assistant as a warning. Show off her ruthlessness. Well, look on the bright side, Winn. Maybe you can try for that Lord Technologies job again. Fourth time’s the charm, right?_

Winn didn’t bother looking at the assistant as he opened the door and stepped inside Cat’s office. He was about to be viciously fired, he didn’t need the extra embarrassment of seeing her look of pity. “You, um, you wanted to see me, Ms. Grant?” Winn said. In a way, it was almost freeing, already knowing he was gone. He could stutter less when talking to Cat, at least.

“Yes, how very astute of you to realize that,” Cat said in her typical dismissively sarcastic tone. She pointed to Winn’s left. “This is my new assistant, Karen. She needs to know where everything important in this building is. Show her.” Cat turned toward her computer and began typing, evidently believing that the conversation was over.

Winn and Karen looked at each other. She seemed about as nervous and confused as he felt. Also, _wow_ was she pretty. Winn couldn't help giving her a tiny smile. She returned the smile and stood a little more straight. “Um, Ms. Grant,” Karen said, adjusting her glasses and stepping forward, “are you sure you don’t want me to start right away? I’m a fast learner, and --”

“If I asked you right now,” Cat interrupted without looking up, “to bring these files down to our chief web editor, check in with our art director to see how the new cover’s coming along, then call the usual caterers and make sure they’re on schedule for the dinner I’m holding next week…what would happen?” She finally glanced Karen’s way. Karen was silent, staring down at the floor. “Exactly,” Cat said. “Nothing. Nothing would get done.”

Cat turned back to her computer. “I’m not a slave-driver, Karen. I would never ask you to do anything I can’t do myself. So I will use my valuable time to handle your responsibilities for, hmmm, let’s say two hours. In that time I expect you to learn, at the minimum, the names and phone numbers of all major department heads as well as precisely what is on each of this building’s fifty-two floors. I suggest you get to it.”

“You mean I’m not -- I’m not getting fired?” Winn blurted out.

Cat gave him a cool look. “Is there a reason you should be fired? Because if you do not do exactly as I instructed, there will be.”

“But -- there was a memo -- you wanted to talk about my work --”

“Hmm, was there?” Cat gazed pensively past Winn. “Well, for the life of me, I can’t remember what there is to discuss. Which is why I need a competent assistant. So _go_.” And with that icy word, Karen and Winn left.

“Is she always like that?” Karen asked, following Winn as he walked back to his desk, shoved aside some stray papers, and leaned back against the drawers.

“No,” said Winn after a moment of thought, “usually she’s worse.”

Karen shrugged. She seemed surprisingly unscathed by her encounter with Cat. “Well, I wanted to work for a powerful, influential woman,” she said brightly. “I guess I just hoped she’d be a little more...supportive.”

“Trust me -- for her, that _is_ supportive. She must like something about you.” Which may or may not have been true -- who knew what good lurked in the heart of Cat Grant? Definitely not Winn -- but he wanted to give Karen the extra reassurance. It was her first day in a job with a _very_ high turnover rate. She needed it.

Karen took a step closer and laid a friendly hand on his shoulder. “Listen, you don’t need to take time out of your day to help me, I’ll be fine. I already know most of the floors, at least.” She looked down again, squinting as though she were remembering something. “Let’s see...radio’s on 19, social media’s a couple levels below that, I _think_ art and style is somewhere in the 30s…”

Winn’s mouth opened in shock. “How do you know all that already?”

Karen looked back toward him and smiled. “I did say I was a fast learner. I, um, saw the directory in the lobby, and I have a really good memory.” She glanced around and adjusted her glasses again. “I _do_ have two questions, though. One: where’s my desk?” Winn wordlessly pointed at the desk next to his and Karen laughed. “Right, right, obviously it’s the one empty desk in this whole area that's right next to Ms. Grant, got it. So, second question: what is your name?” She stuck out a hand. Winn took it, and as they shook he thought in surprise, _Sheesh, her grip is strong_.

“Winn. It’s, uh, a nickname, actually. Long story. Okay, it’s actually not a long story, I just hate hearing people call me ‘Winslow,’ it’s embarrassing --” Winn stopped right there before he could self-sabotage himself any further. What was with him today? He’d stopped telling Cat’s assistants that ages ago -- it didn’t matter if they knew his full name, they’d be out of there before it started to matter. But Winn couldn’t help shake the feeling that this one, Karen, would be here for a long time. He sure hoped so, at any rate.

“Karen --” he began to say, but she interrupted him with a laugh.

“Ha, sorry, just -- my name’s Kara,” she said, giggling again. “Ms. Grant kept mangling it the entire time I was in there, but I couldn’t butt in and correct her.”

“What? Oh, _wow_ , I am so sorry.”

“It’s fine, you had no idea. Keep going with what you were saying.”

“Okay, uh, _Kara_ ,” Winn said, emphasizing the correct name, which made her smile. Winn helplessly smiled back. Why did she make him want to smile so much? “It’s really no trouble to guide you around CatCo. Believe me, I usually have nothing going on. I’m just the IT guy, so.” He shrugged. “Nobody’ll miss me.”

“Aw, I’m sure that’s not true,” Kara said. “I mean, I’d miss you if you weren’t here. Right now, you’re my only friend in this whole building!”

_Friend_. Well, that was a good start. “Go catch the elevator, I just need to get some things together. You never know when someone’s got a computer that needs fixing in this building.” They both laughed at that, and Kara started walking toward the elevator. “Wait, wait!” Winn called out. “Not that one, that’s Cat’s private elevator. Rule one: do not use it. Ever.” He pointed back down the hall in the direction of the public elevator. Kara nodded and gave him a thumbs-up, and then she’d gone.

Winn quickly grabbed his satchel and stuffed his laptop and a couple of snack bars inside. He’d been telling the truth about wanting to prepare, but he also needed a little time to think. He wanted to know her. He wanted to know everything about her. More than that, even -- every time she opened her mouth he had to stop himself from staring at her and grinning like an idiot. She was beautiful and funny and kind and --

_Oh_ , Winn thought. _Oh no_.

Winn was not unfamiliar with this feeling. He’d had embarrassing high school crushes, tried dating a couple times, the works. This was different, though. For one thing, it had never hit him like a brick to the chest -- _whapow_. For another, he was already thinking --

“I love you,” Winn said to the empty air. In the crowded, hectic office floor, nobody heard. _And nobody will hear_ , he thought, _because even if she stays, she definitely has a boyfriend -- or, well, someone in her life. She’s got to._ But the words felt right as they settled into the back of his mind and deep inside his chest, all at once. They certainly were not going away any time soon.

“I love you, Kara,” he said again. Just in case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, obviously when Winn said love will hit you like whapow, he was speaking from experience! :P
> 
> This part takes place around a year before the pilot, or so my reckoning figures. Cat was both difficult and wildly fun to write dialogue for -- what a great character, right? Her calling Kara "Karen" is a reference to Supergirl's alternate universe counterpart, Power Girl, aka Karen Starr. The name(s) of Cat's unlucky previous assistant, Linda/Melissa, are references to Linda Lee Danvers (Supergirl's in-comic alias) and Melissa Benoist herself. CatCo has 52 floors because if The Flash can stick in the number 52 wherever the hell they want, so can I. Also, Kara knows the floors because when Cat/Winn were talking to her, she was using her X-ray vision all sneaky-like to look through the building (but yes, she did see the directory and she does have a good memory).
> 
> More to come soon, i.e. whenever I can carve some time away from school and writing college application essays. :)


	2. ii

“I’m...I’m her!” Kara exclaimed. “The woman who saved the plane!” She laughed nervously and shrugged a little, like that explained everything.

Winn’s thoughts -- which until that moment had been screaming something along the lines of _Why did you immediately assume she was gay?! It’s not all about you, idiot!_ \-- fell silent. Then he returned her laugh with a cynical chuckle. “Okay,” he said, grinning at the obvious prank Kara was playing on him. “Yeah, okay, right.” He turned and began to walk away from her, back to the rooftop door, because of course he didn’t believe her. Kara Danvers, mild-mannered assistant, had stopped a plane from crashing? By _lifting_ it? Yeah, nope. She was just messing with him. She _had_ to be. Probably because of the stupid thing he’d said.

Winn turned back around, already forming an apology for his insensitive remark, but once again he was stunned into silence by Kara, who was stepping resolutely toward the edge of the roof. She was already less than ten feet away from it. “Kara, what are you doing?” Winn asked. She kept walking closer to the edge. At four feet, she looked back at him, a frustrated expression on her face. “Hey, Kara!” Winn said, which did absolutely nothing.

Now she was a foot away from a fifty-story drop, and Winn was seriously worried. “Hey, get -- get away from the ledge,” he said, sticking out a cautious hand. “You’re gonna get hurt!” Instead, Kara turned to face him, her back to the open air. She opened her arms wide and smiled. Then she leaned backward and -- and --

She was gone.

Oh, _shit_.

“ _Karaaa!_ ” Winn screamed, running toward the ledge despite knowing how little use it was. His mind was on fire. One internal part of him was yelling a variety of swear words in numerous unique combinations. Another was wondering how the hell he’d explain to Cat that he’d killed her most successful assistant. He thought, _This is your fault. You should have stopped her._ He also thought, _I’ll never be able to tell her how I feel about her._ All of this took place within three seconds.

Winn was at the ledge now, almost to the point where he could see -- no. He firmly stopped that sentence from reaching its conclusion. He couldn’t think about that. If he saw Kara’s -- if he saw -- well, then he really would die. Not physically, but some part of him would just...snap, and be gone. “ _Hey!_ ” he shouted, just to give himself something to do other than think.

Then he heard a sudden, loud _whoosh_ and felt wind blow strongly against his face. This wasn’t odd, relatively speaking. What was odd was the pinkish-brown blur that shot straight up from beyond the rooftop, flipped through the air, and landed behind him on the helicopter pad. Except it wasn’t a blur at all now, it was...impossible. Yet Winn had seen the evidence with his own eyes: Kara Danvers, aforesaid mild-mannered assistant, leaping over a tall building in a single bound. With _heels_.

Kara straightened from her landing and absently pushed her glasses back up her nose. For a split second, Winn wondered if he’d somehow managed to rewind time to before Kara's fall. Then he snapped back to his increasingly-strange reality. “You’re -- you’re _her_ ,” he said, his voice almost cracking on the last word. His heart felt like it was ready to burst from his chest. _Please don’t let me cry in front of a superhero_ , Winn thought before he could stop himself. He then amended this thought to _Please don’t let me cry in front of the superhero who I also want to kiss right now._

“Yep,” replied Kara, still a little out of breath from her stunt. She lifted her hands, shrugging and laughing as she had before. Her expression showed precisely what she was thinking, without words: _This is who I am. What else can I say?_

Winn stared at her. _I love you_ , he said, also without words. He said it with the unconscious grin on his face and the spark of joy in his eyes. He said it with the tight hug he immediately gave Kara. He said it with every cell of his body and every thought in his brain.

What else could he say?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the relatively short length of this part -- there's a limit to what I can do when it's based entirely off of a scene in the show that was (if I remember correctly -- and I think I do, seeing as I watched it about fifty times to get all the dialogue and movements down) about a minute long. But fear not! I promise only one other chapter involves in-show events, and that only in part. Stay tuned. ;)
> 
> Anyways -- yeah, I'm not letting Winn off the hook about the gay comment. What a dummy. I was hesitant about subverting the PG atmosphere of the show with "Oh shit," but honestly any other word wouldn't have had nearly the same impact. The "leaping a tall building" and "mild-mannered assistant" lines are, of course, shots at the opening lines of the Superman cartoons from the 40s, which have been much-referenced and parodied in pop culture since.
> 
> One final note: thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for all of your kind feedback and kudos. It's been a really, really long time since I wrote fanfic, let alone put it up in a public place, so it means the world to me. Again, thanks.


	3. iii

Winn had to say something to her.

He’d known Kara for over a year now, and he’d been in love with her the entire time. He listened to her talk about the cute guys she saw on the street. He watched as she went on numerous first dates that never led to seconds. He lived down the hall from her, for God’s sake, they walked to work together once a week! And all this time, he didn’t say anything about his feelings for her, because he _knew_ it would screw up their friendship for good. Things would become...awkward, and cold, and distant, and they’d lose whatever they had had in the first place. Which was the opposite of what Winn wanted.

So he hadn’t told her. Not directly, at least. He’d asked her out to the movies or dinner a few times, and they’d even gone, but Kara never initiated any kind of word or contact that would come from someone who was more than a best friend. Sometimes, when he’d say something obliquely referring to how much he cared about her, or the lengths he’d be willing to go for her, she’d look at him in a way that made Winn almost think she knew how he felt. But even if that were true -- and Winn doubted it, because Kara was the most forthright person he’d ever met -- the fact that _she_ hadn’t brought up anything meant she didn’t want to lose what they had either.

Winn could cope with that. He’d been coping for a year, it was nothing new. What _was_ new was Kara’s completely obvious, head-over-heels crush on James Olsen, a man who had everything Winn lacked: connections to Superman, sage advice for superhero-ing...oh, and he was _ridiculously handsome_ to boot. Hell, if Winn wasn’t already in love with Kara, he’d probably have a crush on James too.

Of course he didn’t hold it against her, because that would make him a bad friend (not to mention a bad person in general). But it was hard to see Kara look at James the exact way he looked at her when she didn't see him. And it was hard to dance with her and think for just one shining, wonderful minute, _This is what it could be like all the time_. It was hard to be so, _so_ close to just pouring his heart out over Thanksgiving dinner, only Kara had run out of the room to talk to James and he was left listening to Alex and Eliza arguing.

Which is why the next day, after Kara gave him leftovers as an apology for dealing with her family -- seriously, could this girl get _any_ nicer? -- Winn stumbled through his explanation of his own sad family life and what he was thankful for before finally saying to Kara, “What -- what I’m grateful for is, is...is you.” And then before he knew what he was doing, he leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. Her skin was very warm. Maybe it was a Kryptonian thing.

Winn backed up from the kiss to see Kara’s response. Her expression was...not the one he had been hoping to see. There was certainly a healthy dose of confusion in there, along with shock and worry and...recognition of a kindred feeling, perhaps? Wait, maybe she _didn’t_ have any idea of how he felt.

Kara nodded once or twice to herself, not looking at him. “You too,” she said quietly.

Winn took one step back, then another. They both gazed at each other in silence. “Okay, um...this probably merits some kind of explanation,” Winn said at last, unable to bear it any longer. He placed the Thanksgiving food on a nearby desk with a sudden clunk. Oh, God, was he really doing this? He was finally doing it. Was this how Kara felt when she’d revealed herself to him on the roof? Then he had to be brave, just like her.

Maybe this wouldn’t screw up their friendship after all. Or maybe it would. But at this point, nearly anything would be better than this...dying, bit by bit, every day. _Here goes_ , he thought as he turned to face her.

“So,” said Winn. “Uh.” He was clearly not prepared for this. “You remember, after we met, how we walked home together completely by accident?” he said, latching onto the first cohesive thought his mind spat out. “We were both _so_ shocked we lived right next to each other.” Winn laughed at the memory. “What a crazy random happenstance. Absolutely impossible. But I have learned a thing or two about you, Kara,” he continued, pointing a finger at her, “and I know you are just a -- a beacon of the impossible.”

Winn began to pace in tight circles, back and forth. Pacing helped him think, and he needed to get these thoughts out in exactly the right way. “Every day I’ve known you,” he said, “you've -- you've made me feel like I'm a better person, just by having you to look up to. Every day, I am amazed by your patience, and warmth, and generosity. You always find new ways to surprise me. Not just with, y’know, the obvious, I mean.” He stopped pacing and briefly adopted a mock-flying posture, one fist held high in the air and one foot off the ground. Kara giggled, which was encouraging.

“I mean…” Winn trailed off, thinking and remembering. “Like how you gave me this food,” he said, pointing to the plastic containers, “to say sorry for -- for bringing me into something I wish I had all the time! Or, uh.” He snapped his fingers a few times, trying to will the words into just _being_ , without clumsy things like his mouth getting in the way. “How you, without fail, remember all the quirks and life stories of _literally_ everyone in CatCo. I think the entire building l-likes you.” Whoops. That was an awkward stumble. Winn glanced at Kara for a moment. “Even Cat,” he added with a laugh, drawing attention away from the _other_ word he'd been about to say.

“You always try to find the good in people before seeing the bad,” he continued, “ _always_. It's amazing. And you usually _do_ find the good, which is even more amazing, except it's really not because that's just how you affect people. You inspire hope in everyone you meet. Including me.” Winn paused. “Okay, yes, and the powers, the powers are really freaking cool.” He grinned. “You’re bulletproof, you fly, you see through walls. You can do _anything_ , and you use it all to -- to help people. Save them. Everything that this, uh, _extremely_ weird world throws at you, you take it all on your shoulders. Kara, you are _so_ strong. You've suffered a-an unimaginable, crushing loss, and you...you smile. You smile anyway.”

He shook his head, more for his own benefit. It was a way to avoid eye contact. He didn't want to see her face, didn't want it to tell him what he feared was the truth. “Ah, Kara,” he said in a soft voice. “Everything about you is impossible.” Winn looked back up at her and beamed. “Really, the least impossible thing about you is, is that…” Deep breath. “That I could fall in love with you in less than five minutes.” And that was it, really. He wasn't done talking yet -- how could he be? He could talk about how Kara made him feel until the Sun went out -- but it was _there_ , and _she_ was there, and that was all that really mattered.

“Look, I-I know you don't feel the same way,” Winn continued in a rush, “I know you...like James, and that's _fine_ , he's great, and I know this whole -- _thing_ might make everything, uh, weird with us, or something, but --” He clamped his mouth shut before he could babble any more incoherently. Finally, he said in a careful voice, “Being your best friend is more than I could ever have asked for. If you don't want to try...something different, then all I want is for us to stay best friends. But maybe -- maybe we can go dancing again. _Without_ being interrupted, this time.” Winn looked at her face closely, trying to anticipate her response before he asked the question. “What do you say?”

Kara stared at him in the ensuing silence, her expression impossible to read. Then she opened her mouth and said --

She said --

Well, it didn’t really matter what she said, did it? Because it wasn’t real.

Reality didn’t work like that. Reality would never offer those exact minutes of silence and inspiration, of dread and warmth. He could go over it in his head dozens of times and imagine countless variations of the scene, but it would never change reality, which was simply this: Winn said he was grateful for Kara. He kissed her on the cheek. She’d said “You too.” And then James arrived, back from Ojai with Lucy, and Kara sped over to him, and Winn was left in the dust. Again.

Now he stared at the ceiling of his apartment, leaning back in his chair with hands behind his head and toes on the edge of his desk, rocking slightly back and forth. Just another precarious balancing act in his life. Winn put pressure on the desk, making the chair’s legs rise. _Don’t say anything._ He let his weight fall toward the desk. _Tell her how you feel._ Backward again, further this time. _Things are going great as they are._ Winn frowned as he tilted forward. _Not as great as they could be._ He thought of Kara’s face as she’d turned away from the kiss and toward James, and felt a sudden and almost surprising surge of bitterness. Winn pushed on the desk again, but misjudged his force. For a moment, he had a heart-stopping sensation of weightlessness as he hung on the edge of falling. Then he quickly raised his feet from the desk, sending the front of the chair to the floor with a loud bang.

Winn breathed in and out in deep gulps, trying to slow his hammering heartbeat. He placed his hands palm-down on the desk to steady himself. After a minute, he felt marginally calmer, and sighed. One thing he knew for certain: being bitter was not the answer. Neither was wishing for how things could have been. And neither was rushing into things. Not when it wasn’t the absolute right time for it.

The only solution, as Winn saw it, was to keep doing what he’d always done: be Kara’s best friend. That was what mattered, more than anything. He could just bottle up everything else inside. Was it healthy? Probably not. But he had plenty of experience with it -- even for things not involving his love life -- and he was doing fine!

Yes. He was fine. He just had to keep telling himself that until it became true.

He was fine. He was fine. He was fine. He was --

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The interrupted ending for this one will make more sense when the next part is up, but suffice it to say that holding everything in is not exactly the best solution for Winn! Case in point: episode 1x07, which...yikes. Don’t be that guy, Winn, c’mon. All the "bitterness is not the answer" stuff may partially be my own wishful thinking for how I (don't) want him to act, but keep in mind that a lot of the narration is heavily influenced by Winn’s own thoughts and feelings, so just because he says he’s not bitter doesn’t necessarily make it true, especially in the heat of the moment... (But boy was he out of line. He should have been the one apologizing to Kara, not the other way around. :/ )
> 
> The idea of Kara and Winn living next door (or almost) to each other comes from the initial Supergirl casting calls, which described Winn as her next-door neighbor. Now, who knows if that’s meant in a metaphoric sense (i.e. he’s the archetypical “boy next door”) or literal, or even if it still applies to the show (the casting call also said Alex is jealous of her sister’s powers, which clearly isn't the case). But I am a sucker for archetypes, and it makes their best friendship make a little more sense if they also see each other a lot outside of work.
> 
> Eagle-eyed readers will note that the specific demarcation between “what really happened” and “what Winn imagines” is that Kara stops saying anything. He knows he can’t put words into her mouth, even in his imagination. Also, the “crazy random happenstance” line is from Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog, a 45-minute comedy musical about a supervillain, his vlog, his unrequited love, and his heroic nemesis. It's fun! I like to think Winn and Kara have watched it a bunch of times, but it’s a little more awkward now that they actually fight supervillains.
> 
> Hope you all continue to enjoy this! I'm having lots of fun writing it. As always, thank you for all your kind feedback and kudos, they make my day. Can't wait for the winter finale!


	4. iv

Winn was not fine.

He stared unmoving at the CatCo article open on his laptop. “DANGEROUS INMATE ESCAPES NATIONAL CITY PENITENTIARY, KILLING TWO” blared the headline. The subheading said, in a slightly smaller font, “Toyman whereabouts unknown after series of violent explosions rock prison.”

 _He’s not going to be happy they're calling him the Toyman again, that's for sure_ , Winn thought for the seventh time since first seeing the article. He didn't want to keep reading it, but his eyes forced themselves down the page yet again.

“A citywide manhunt is now in progress to find and recapture escaped criminal Winslow Schott, Sr., who just two hours ago set and detonated at least four bombs both inside and outside National City Penitentiary. These explosions left two inmates dead and at least a dozen other inmates and guards injured, some critically. The police are as yet unsure how Schott obtained the materials for the bombs, though an anonymous source speaking exclusively to CatCo claims that he stole small amounts of fertilizer and electrical components from prison supplies over the course of his captivity.

“Schott was imprisoned six years ago after being found guilty of willfully creating and selling children’s toys containing dangerous chemical components, including explosives. These horrific acts killed eight and led our own Cat Grant to give him the nickname of ‘Toyman’ in her seminal series of articles reporting on the attacks and Schott's subsequent capture and trial. National City Penitentiary’s warden, Lyle Bolton, has gone on record saying that Schott was ‘a model prisoner. I never received any complaints about his behavior. His psychiatrist informed me only a few weeks ago that his new medication was working well, and there were discussions of reducing his time.’ Bolton went on to state that he would ensure heightened prison security in the wake of this tragedy.

“Schott is to be considered armed and dangerous, possibly psychotic. Police urge National City citizens to remain in their homes at this time and avoid answering the door to strangers. Anyone with tips on Schott’s location can call CatCo’s own toll-free hotline, 1-800-616-5252. To learn more about the Toyman and his original destructive rampage, click here to be taken to our online archives.”

Winn’s cursor hovered over the embedded hyperlink for a moment. He moved it away with a sigh. It was bad enough that his father had gotten out, he didn’t need to make things worse by reliving all the worst moments of his life through sensationalized news reports. Winn scrolled back to the top of the page and stared at the headline once more. A number of thoughts echoed around his mind. _I have to talk to Kara. I should call in sick to work tomorrow, I can’t deal with everyone looking at me. I need to eat something, put a movie on._ He didn’t move.

He didn’t know how much time passed before his cell phone rang. Winn managed to wrench his eyes away from the screen, hoping it was Kara or James or hell, _anybody_ that could distract him for awhile. “Mom,” read the phone’s caller ID. Crap. Winn hadn’t spoken to her in a long time. He couldn’t. She still thought her husband was a good man.

The phone rang once, then twice. As much as he wanted to leave it there on the table, Winn felt that the extreme situation called for an answer. His mother wasn’t a bad person, after all. Just too...devoted. He’d keep it as brief as he could, tell Mom that his father was surely going back to prison soon, and then their talk would be done.

Winn took a breath, gathered himself together for the ensuing conversation, and picked up the phone. “Hello?” he said.

A long silence, then a sigh of relief from the other end. “Hello, Junior,” a warm voice replied. “I’m so glad to hear you. It’s been...it’s been too long. Far too long.”

The only reason Winn didn't drop the phone altogether was that every muscle in his body had  locked tight. _Oh_ , he thought. _Of course he went to her. Why didn't I think of that? Hell, why didn't the police think of that?_ Winn opened his mouth. Nothing came out. He felt as though he was slowly being strangled.

“I hope this call isn't too much of a surprise,” continued the elder Winslow Schott. “By now you must have heard about…” He paused and coughed awkwardly. “My escape. Well. Yes. What a shame about Jack and Anton. I _did_ like them. But,” he added lightly, “I always said you can't make an omelet without cracking a few skulls.” Winslow laughed. Winn’s free hand, the one not holding the phone, was shaking. He clenched it into a fist.

After a minute, Winslow said, “Giving me the silent treatment, I see.” He chuckled. “Well, you picked up the phone. That's what counts. And you won't hang up on me because I know, deep down, you've missed me as much as I missed you. So I’m just going to wait for you to start talking to me.” Another chuckle, this one tinged with bitterness. “I’ve been waiting six years, after all. What’s a few minutes more?”

A minute passed without a word, then two. Winn knew that, if nothing else, his father was a very stubborn man. Besides, even if Winn somehow gathered the strength to hang up on him, how would he react? He sounded good right now, but Winn doubted that he’d brought his meds with him in his escape.

 _Just think of it like you’re gathering information_ , he thought. _Information Kara can use to stop him._ Winn breathed in and out slowly, and the grip on his throat lessened. Finally, he spoke.

“How did you get this number?” By a sheer miracle, Winn’s voice only barely trembled.

“Oh, son.” Winslow sounded a little disappointed. Was he expecting an immediate declaration of forgiveness? “I taught you everything you know about computers. You don't think this old dog can learn new tricks?”

“Do you have access to a computer right now?” That was it. Just keep the questions short and to the point. Then he’d be able to avoid breaking down completely.

Winslow sighed again, this time more in frustration than relief. “Junior, I’m in your mother’s house,” he said. “What do you think?” In his mind’s eye, Winn could see his father’s dismissive eyeroll with perfect clarity. All the old memories and emotions connecting the two of them were flooding his brain, and he struggled not to drown.

“How --” Winn’s throat closed up again. “How is she?” he forced out.

“Lovely as ever,” Winslow replied brightly. “Mary’s out now, though. Getting some things I need.” His voice suddenly took on a much darker tone. “Not that you want to talk to her, I suppose. Do you know, she told me you two haven’t spoken in more than a year? And that you’re working at _CatCo_?” He spat out the name like it was acid. The press had not been kind to the elder Schott or his wife.

“They had a job opening for an IT guy. I took it.” Why was he trying to justify himself? He didn’t have to do anything for his father. Damn it, what happened to ‘keep the conversation brief?’ This was yet another reason why Winn had stopped talking to either of his parents. He couldn’t prevent himself from getting sucked into arguments.

“ _An IT guy?!_ ” Winslow yelled. There was silence again between them, though Winn was almost sure his father could hear his heart beating like a jackhammer. _Don’t be angry, don’t be angry_ , Winn thought in a panic. Not that it would do anything. He knew _that_ from years of experience.

However, when Winslow started to talk again, he seemed to have calmed down. “Son. You’re wasting your gifts. You and I both know you have so much more potential -- potential to do great things. Winslow --”

“Don’t call me that,” snapped Winn. “It’s -- it’s Winn. Just Winn.” _I'm not like you_ , he thought. _I'm not. I can't be. Then Kara wouldn't...she would..._ He didn't know how to complete that sentence. He wasn't sure he wanted to.

“See, that’s exactly what I mean. You’re not ‘just’ anything -- you’re Winslow Schott Jr., the brilliant son of a brilliant inventor! You should be proud of it!”

“Yeah, proud that my dad killed a bunch of kids,” Winn muttered bitterly. He grimaced in expectation of the ensuing explosion.

“Winslow,” said his father, and Winn’s frown only grew. Partly because of the name -- Dad not listening, how typical -- but more so from the complete lack of explosion echoing in his ears. Far from it, actually. “If you’d talked to me or your mother,” Winslow continued, his voice curiously quiet and flat, “you’d know that was all -- it was just -- I was not --” He faltered and stopped speaking. The only sound was the muted background static of the phone. For a second -- just a second, but it seemed to stretch on forever -- Winn thought that maybe, _maybe_ his father would finally admit to doing something wrong. He’d give himself up. He’d get help. Nobody would be hurt. For a second, he had hope.

“I just needed to teach those kids a _lesson_ ,” Winslow snarled, and Winn’s heart dropped in his chest.

This was not happening. Not again.

“Look, you’re going back to prison. _Soon_ ,” Winn said, and the solidity of his voice surprised him. “You know why? Because things are different now. National City has a hero this time, one who _will_ stop whatever you’re planning.”

“Oh, you mean this quote-unquote ‘Supergirl’ I’ve heard so much about.” Winslow paused, evidently thinking. “You sound more certain about that than I’ve ever heard you in your entire life. So what, precisely, makes you think that?” His voice was calm again, somehow, but there was a dangerous current of tension just underneath.

“Because I _know_ her,” Winn said before he could stop himself. He barreled through the rest of his words. “She is faster, stronger, and smarter than _anything_ you can possibly build. You cannot beat her. And you know what? When she has you down on your knees, she’ll probably even forgive you. Because she’s a better person than -- than pretty much everyone on this whole entire planet. And she is my best friend.” His voice hitched a little on those last two words. It always did.

There was a long period of silence. Then, abruptly, Winslow started to laugh. He laughed and laughed and laughed as Winn stood wordlessly in his apartment. It was the kind of laugh that makes the person who hears it incredibly nervous. Winn was no exception. _Oh my God, I’m gonna die_ , he thought. _Me, or a whole lot of other people_.

Finally, Winslow’s laughter subsided into intermittent chuckles, and then silence once more. “Oh, I’m sorry, Junior,” he said. “This is just -- well, it’s just so _funny_. I should have known. You’re in love!”

 _Oh no._ Winn began to stammer through a reply but couldn’t form a coherent sentence. All his mind seemed capable of doing was thinking the word _No_ over and over again.

“No, no, say no more,” Winslow interrupted. “Obviously, whoever Supergirl really is, you care about her quite a lot. I understand.” He honestly sounded pleased, and his voice took on a nostalgic tone. “It was just like that when I met your mother. Love at first sight. Of course, she wasn’t interested at all in the beginning, but I...well, I managed to change her mind. You will, too, I’m sure of it.”

Winn was not about to start discussing his pitiful love life with his deranged lunatic of a father. Clearly, he’d said too much as it was. Trust him to screw it all up with his big mouth. “I need to go,” he said bluntly, trying to ignore the part of him internally screaming. “To call the police. And tell them where you are.”

“Not Supergirl?” Winslow asked. “Pity. I was hoping to meet her. Oh well. Either way, whoever you call is going to have a... _fun_ surprise waiting for them when they arrive.” Clicking noises could be heard in the background. They did not sound fun at all.

The clicking sounds were suddenly joined by sirens. “That’s my cue,” Winslow said wryly. “Inevitable, really. I wasn’t thinking straight when I chose this place as a hideout. Trust an old man to be sentimental, eh?” Winn didn’t reply. He was too busy worrying about that clicking, about what it might do to those cops, about what his father was going to do about Kara.

“It’s been a pleasure catching up with you, Junior. I’ll try to drop by soon. Then you can tell me all about her.” Winslow paused. “I love you so much. You know that? All I want to do is make you and your mother happy, so we can be a family again. You’ll see.” And before Winn could hang up, his father ended the call.

Winn looked down at the phone in his hand. _Well...that’s certainly not how I imagined a conversation with Dad would go_ , he thought. _That was actually much, much worse._

He started to dial Kara’s number.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so: here is where we leave the territory of the show proper and start going into speculation. This chapter is sort of interesting in that way because, while the next two are my straight-up _guess_ for something that'll happen, this one is about something that will _definitely_ happen, just probably not in this way. As in: the appearance of Winn's father, the Toyman.
> 
> All I’ve heard about Winn’s dad is that he’s an imprisoned criminal, a very bad person (according to Winn), and is apparently obsessed with reconnecting with his son. And that, according to interviews with people on the show, Winn comes from "a very dark place." So I did a lot of reading about the Toyman on Wikipedia, watched clips of Henry Czerny in Revenge, and tried to put something together -- a prequel, of sorts, to that upcoming Toyman episode (which, in my head, starts off with Kara getting Winn's call and involves all the child abduction stuff the Toyman is more famous for). I’m sure it’s mostly/entirely off the mark from whatever the writers are planning, but I wanted to limit how many scenes I pulled from the show itself and do some speculating (plus I'm trying to get this out before Christmas -- emphasis on the word 'trying'). I can’t wait to see Winn and his father interact, I’m sure it’ll be The Worst.
> 
> "But thelivingautomaton!" I hear you cry. "If Cat wrote those articles about Winn's dad, how come she (and everyone else in National City) doesn't know who he is?" Here's my reasoning: six years is a long time, especially for the news; at the time (assuming character age = actor age) Winn was off in college/grad school and likely as far away as he could get from National City, thereby avoiding the press; and as far as I remember, nobody's ever referred to Winn as "Winslow Schott" in front of Cat (I don't think they've called him his full name at all, actually?), so no lightbulb moment for her. More significantly though, I believe that at some point, Cat _did_ have an opportunity to track down Winn and get him into one of her articles somehow...only then she thought about her own estranged son, Adam Foster, and how he'd feel being dragged under the spotlight in relation to his own (in)famous parent. So she changed her mind. This is something I'd love to write about, if the dice roll that way in the show, so...we'll see. ;)
> 
> Lyle Bolton in the comics is a Batman villain known as Lock-Up, who was placed in charge of Arkham Asylum as a civilian until it was found he was torturing the inmates there to keep him in line. He was also in one of the Arrow between-season comics apparently, but what the hell, Supergirl is set in a different Earth than Arrow/The Flash. The unfortunately deceased inmates Jack and Anton are references to Jack Nimball and Anton Schott, two others who have taken up the Toyman moniker in the comics. Winn’s mom Mary is Schott Sr.’s wife in the comics, except she’s not actually, she’s a robot. Comics are confusing. Her loyalty to Winn’s dad is a nod to this idea (though I'm pretty sure, if she's mentioned in the show, she won't be a robot...probably). I have no earthly clue if fertilizer and electrical components can really make a bunch of bombs, but I didn't want to Google "how to make a bomb" and get put on some kind of watchlist, so if that's unrealistic, sorry. :P
> 
> Finally, apologies for the relative lateness of this chapter, I've been swamped with work lately (and I probably will continue to be until winter break, sigh). Hoping to be done with this before the show returns on January 4th, though. :) And continued thanks for your kudos and feedback. <3
> 
> edit 12/17/15: Just realized I screwed up the timeline -- I initially said Cat wrote her Toyman articles shortly after the formation of CatCo, but in Hostile Takeover she says she was building CatCo when she had Adam (which was obviously not six years ago). Sorry for the mess-up!


	5. v

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya, just another heads-up: this chapter contains blood/violence somewhere in the area between mild and moderate. It's not very detailed or graphic (at least imo), but it's definitely a level above what goes on in the show, so I felt it prudent to give a warning (two, actually, including the tags). Let me know if it's a problem and if I should do something else. Otherwise, please enjoy!

Winn Schott was going to die.

He knew that, of course. Everybody dies sooner or later. That was just a fact -- an often sad and random fact -- of life. He’d thought that he was one of those in the "later" category, but certain evidence now seemed to imply he was heading toward the other direction. Namely, the shards of green crystal sticking out of his chest, surrounded by a dark red stain that was steadily growing larger.

Oh, and the pain. The pain was definitely also an indicator. So yes. He was literally going to die.

The idea wasn't particularly terrifying to Winn, which was odd. He attempted to push through the haze in his mind. Dying was supposed to be scary, right? Was this shock? But no, that wasn't right, you didn't feel pain when you were in shock -- but what the hell did he know about medicine, anyways -- _dammit I’m a hacker not a doctor_ \-- no, focus, _focus_. There was the pain. Lots and lots of pain, as he struggled to breathe in and out. No numbness, which was...good? Maybe? It didn’t _feel_ good, but his basic knowledge of human physiology told him this: chest wound = lung damage + blood loss = low oxygen = numbness = death. And he wasn’t numb. Yet.

That was the word that circled around his mind like a vulture, waiting: _yet, yet, yet_. He was in horrible pain, yet -- he hadn’t done enough, yet -- he was going to die, and yet --

He stood, wobbling, in the middle of the CatCo office floor, and there was smoke and debris floating in the air, almost tranquil except that people were also screaming, and broken glass was scattered across the whole area from where one of the windowed walls had been completely smashed, and it was a disaster zone, and it had happened only a moment ago, though it felt like time was stretching on into forever -- and maybe it was, maybe his brain was purposely altering his perception to make his final minutes of consciousness last longer, just to savor it -- and Winn could feel his mind being pulled in an infinite number of directions, yet there was one central feeling that overshadowed it all: _It’s gonna be okay._ Because it was. He knew it. Oh, sure, _he_ wouldn't be okay, but something -- _someone_ else was, someone who was much more important than the impending loss of his life.

A voice cut through his thoughts. " _Winn!_ " it yelled from somewhere behind. It was a familiar voice, a beautiful voice -- the voice of his best friend, in fact -- but it was full of despair. Which didn’t make sense. It’s not like he was in any trouble, not with her there. Other than the whole dying thing. But that was his own fault, so it didn’t really count.

Winn’s knees crumpled and hit the floor with a thud. He supposed the impact itself might have hurt more if he didn’t also have green alien rocks piercing his vital organs. (Which in and of itself was surreal. What a weird, weird world he lived in. Or had, at any rate.) Regardless, it was a jarring fall, forcing out a violent spurt of air and -- something besides air, too. Absently, Winn rubbed at his mouth and chin, took one look at the warm, sticky, red mess on his hand, and wiped it all gingerly on his shirt. It wasn’t like it could be ruined _more_ , after all. Winn felt a small pang of regret. _I really liked this shirt_ , he thought. And then he toppled forward.

Or he almost did, but two hands caught him by the shoulders and gently pulled him back, so instead he collapsed into the arms of -- well, who else?

Images flashed through Winn’s head, like a series of still frame pictures flickering through a slideshow.

First: Kara in the skies, fighting her aunt and uncle. No doubt it was intense in person, but the footage on the television screens throughout the office floor was grainy and filmed from far below, probably streamed directly from phone camera feeds. As a result, the fight seemed more aloof and unreal, a half-remembered dream -- or nightmare. Still, whoever was in the editing booth at CatCo was some kind of mad genius, because they managed to seamlessly cut between at least ten different cameras to keep up with the Kryptonians’ frenzied battle above the skyscrapers of National City. It was noteworthy news, after all, and it _definitely_ involved Supergirl, so naturally CatCo would ensure its reports were miles better than the competition. Winn, along with everyone else in the office, watched the television screens with rapt attention. Two against one wasn’t great odds (especially when it came to Kryptonians, and _especially_ when it came to family), but Kara had faced tougher plenty of times, so he wasn’t worried. Well -- he _told_ himself he wasn’t worried. That didn’t stop his heart nearly skipping a beat every time Kara took an especially-solid looking punch or got a chunk of building thrown at her. But she was strong, and smart, and she’d find some way to defeat both of them while inflicting as little collateral damage on the city as possible. He was sure. But then --

Next slide: A blue-and-red blur slamming into the windows of the office floor. Glass, papers, everything else that could be smashed to pieces, all of it flying everywhere. People running out of the office and towards the elevators -- _not_ Cat’s private elevator, only the public ones, some detached part of Winn wryly noted, after he’d stuck his head up from where he’d crouched behind his desk. There was a long track mark of destruction leading from the broken windows through a number of obliterated desks before coming to a stop at -- a body. And for a second Winn stopped breathing, but no, it was okay, she was moving, slowly getting to her feet. Winn let out a shaky, quiet laugh. What, like getting punched (or thrown, or whatever) through a building could stop Supergirl? Please.

Another image: Cat Grant herself, standing in her office, the shock on her face present only for a moment before it resolved itself into something much stronger and more defiant. Scarcely taking her eyes off the office floor, she tapped a few buttons on her cell phone and held it aloft. After a few moments, the as-yet intact screens switched perspectives from outside the jagged hole in the CatCo skyscraper to inside the building, moving with a steady hand over the ruined floor. Within her office, Cat was speaking, reporting live. Her words echoed from the televisions, and there was not a single tremor or waver in her voice.

Winn’s memories skipped forward and Kara herself was up on her feet, facing in the direction of the shattered windows. She was breathing hard and she looked tired, so tired, but slowly, she raised her fists. Opposite to her, standing over fragments of broken glass and torn papers, were Non and Astra. Non was smirking, so sure of his impending victory. Astra paused, her eyes filled with regret, before mirroring Kara’s posture with her own tightly-clenched hands. And then, abruptly, the brief lull was over, and the fight continued.

It was a chaotic affair, remembered only blurrily. Large pieces of broken desks and statuary were thrown about. Rays of light appeared and disappeared in hot, bright flashes. The remaining CatCo employees hovered at the edges, either helping to get the injured away or simply...watching, and waiting. They wanted to see their heroine save the day.

And then there’d been a moment where Non broke away, leaving Kara to face Astra one-on-one. By now they’d moved much closer to Winn’s desk, the one where he was still -- not _hiding_ , he told himself, _sheltering_. For a brief moment, as he peeked around one side, he made eye contact with Kara. Her stern but worried look said it all: _You need to get away from here, right now_. She quickly turned away, returning her focus to Astra, but Winn didn’t move. On the contrary, he remained in his kneeling position behind the desk, frozen in place, for one simple reason: after looking up at Kara, his gaze had slid from her to the person standing twenty feet behind her. The person who was holding a strange, rough-looking green ball in his hand. The person who glared at Kara with complete and utter malevolence.

A very cold, tight feeling nestled inside Winn’s chest.

He stood up.

Non hefted the chunky ball of kryptonite once, twice. The nullifier on his chest glowed a cheerful blue, at odds with the hate and triumph in Non’s eyes.

Winn took a step forward, around the desk.

To his right, he saw Astra had stopped trying to hit Kara and was instead staring with something not unlike horror at the ball. She raised one arm in warning and shouted something at Non.

Winn took another step forward, and by now Kara was turning away from Astra, her arms already falling limp at her sides. In a way, it was almost a relief to not be able to see the expression on her face.

Another step, and all the way across the blasted remains of the CatCo office floor Winn could see James bursting through the entrance doors, breathing hard, probably having run up more than a dozen flights of stairs to get here. He kept running towards the four of them, and the way he looked at Kara felt very familiar to Winn.

And, at last, all the disconnected pieces came together in a sudden rush. Non threw the ball, lobbing it underhand, and then flew out of the building in a dark blur. Winn took his final steps, planting himself squarely in front of Kara. The ball rose slowly in its arc through the air. Some light within flickered on and off.

Winn thought, _Worth the risk._

There was a loud _pop_ and a sharp brightness that lasted for only a second. Winn blinked. That...actually wasn't so bad. The explosion, if one could call it that, had been incredibly small. He glanced around for a moment, seeing small pieces of kryptonite deeply embedded in various places among the already-present wreckage. On the bright side, it didn’t seem like any person had been hit directly, though he noticed a few CatCo personnel who’d been standing near the entrance bleeding from superficial cuts. They all seemed to be staring at him, mostly horrified and a little distraught. Suddenly, a woman screamed, cracking the silence in two. Winn blinked again in confusion, then looked down at himself.

_Oh_ , he thought blankly. _I’m going to die_.

That brought him to now, where he lay on the floor and Kara held him in her arms. She leaned over him, kneeling, her blonde hair falling like a curtain to cover most of his view. The tips of her hair dangled, just barely, over the bloody mess that was his shirt. And Winn felt pain, so much pain, in a place much deeper than his injuries, when he saw Kara's face crumple into grief.

“Winn,” she said, her voice wavering with what was almost a sob, “what did you _do_?”

Winn squinted up at her. “I saved you,” he said simply. It didn't hurt to talk as much as he'd thought it would -- well, it didn't _add_ much more to his ample pain -- but his voice sounded far more rough and ragged than normal. _Like a bad cold_ , he thought, and he snickered before wincing with the pain that it brought. _A really bad chest cold. Yeah. Absolutely._

Kara stared at him, probably wondering what on Earth was making him laugh at a time like this. “You didn't need to --” she said, before stopping and swallowing hard. “It's my job to save _you_ ,” she continued softly.

“You did save me,” said Winn, remembering the countless times she'd done exactly that. “I'm just -- returning the favor.” He smiled, figuring correctly that it would be less painful than laughing again. “What else are best friends for?” he said. Kara, after a pause, smiled back at him, only hers was much more heartbroken than his. But Winn knew he'd made the right choice. Really, there had been no other choice to make.

Someone else’s voice intruded, a voice Winn recognized despite being unable to see who spoke. “He needs to get to a hospital,” said Cat. The way she said it made it sound like a typical order, almost, but there was an odd gentleness behind it.

Kara straightened and turned away from Winn. Without her head and hair blocking his vision, he could once again see the CatCo office, but it didn't look much different (i.e. still a wreck -- how many times was Cat going to have to pay for remodeling?), so slowly, he closed his eyes. He was beginning to feel very tired, but the voices drifting above him and the warmth of Kara's arms kept him anchored.

“I don't -- I don't think I can take him to a regular hospital,” Kara said, “they'd ask too many questions about the...the kryptonite.” Her voice fell slightly on the last word.

“The DEO might be able to take care of Winn,” suggested James, sounding exhausted. “I bet they've got medical technology more advanced than anything in National City.”

“And who or what is this DEO?” asked Cat forcefully. Winn could almost see her eyes light up, even now, with the possibility of a scoop.

“But their headquarters, it's way outside the city,” Kara said, evidently ignoring Cat. “With all the kryptonite, I don't know if I can carry him that far.”

“How do you feel right now?” said James gently.

Winn felt Kara shift slightly. After a pause, Kara said quietly, “Not great.”

“It'll be better once you're out of this office,” James assured her. “And I think some of the kryptonite’s effects will be blocked because it's --” He stumbled over the words, his voice shaking a little. “Most of it is -- is inside of him.”

There was a long, empty silence. Winn opened his eyes again, slowly. To his right, he saw James standing over him, one hand placed supportively on Kara's shoulder. Now that Winn had a good look at him for the first time, he noted that James seemed relatively unharmed by the bomb, which was a relief. One less friend for Kara to lose.

“If anyone can do it,” James said at last, “it's you.”

With the way Kara was holding him, Winn couldn't see her face, but her voice was resolute as she said, “Alright. I have to try.” And Winn smiled, because of course she would. That was why she was a hero. He had no doubt she'd get him to the DEO, even if it meant being too close to kryptonite for comfort, even if she had to drag him all the way there.

Now, whether he'd be alive to see it was another matter entirely.

Very slowly, Kara lifted him up. She stopped for a moment as she moved her feet out from under her, then continued, grunting with the effort, until she was standing upright. Winn clenched his teeth, determined to not let a hint of pain escape. But already his chest hurt less than it had. And he was so tired.

Kara looked down at him. “Sorry,” she said, a little breathlessly. “I've got you.”

“You're getting blood all over your suit,” said Winn abruptly. He hadn't realized it until just now. _God, how am I gonna clean it?_ he thought, before remembering that soon he wouldn't be cleaning, or sewing, or typing, or anything.

Kara let out a sudden laugh, and to Winn it was like the sun coming out. “I am _not_ worrying about that right now,” she said, almost sounding like her normal self.

She turned her head away from him, looking around the office, and frowned. “What about everyone else here?” she added quietly. “And -- and Non?”

Down by the shattered windows, Astra spoke for the first time since the fight had ended. “I will find him,” she said, a furious edge to her voice. “What he did was --” She broke off her sentence and took a few steps closer. “I _ordered_ Non not to kill you,” she murmured to Kara. “He will not be forgiven for this.”

Kara frowned. “Just -- just don't let him hurt anyone else,” she said.

Astra sighed. “Very well. He won't suffer any... _permanent_ harm.” She smirked, walked back toward the former windows, and a few seconds later she was gone.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get everyone out and safe,” James said. Faintly, sirens could be heard approaching, and he smiled. “Looks like help is already on the way.”

“Yes, it's not like I've got anything better to occupy my time,” added Cat as she stepped around to Winn's left, “with most of my staff gone and everything destroyed.” She held up her phone. A chunk of kryptonite poked out of both sides, and the screen was spiderwebbed with cracks. “Yet another time reporting has saved my life,” she said dryly. “I'll be expecting an interview with you soon, Supergirl. I'm excited to hear all about this DEO that will be helping Wint here.” _Of course_ , thought Winn flatly. _Maybe she'll get it right in the obituary._

“Um,” said Kara. Winn wheezed out something that might have been a cackle, under other circumstances. He felt bad for Kara, of course, but come on. It was funny. Or maybe he actually was in shock.

Cat gave Kara a significant look. “And order me a new cell phone,” she said, a little more gently. “When you get back.” Before Kara could reply or give some excuse to refute Cat's unspoken implication, she'd already turned and walked off, shouting directions at the few remaining CatCo employees. Kara, after a beat, snorted and shook her head.

“You'd better get going, I think,” said James, a little of the old warmth returning to his voice. He looked down at Winn, frowning with concern. “Hang on, man,” he added, laying a gentle hand on Winn's arm. In response, Winn raised his own hand in a shaky, feeble thumbs-up. It didn't hurt. The pain had, in fact, almost entirely faded away, even though Winn was breathing in and out more rapidly than before. He thought he knew what that meant, and it wasn't anything good.

James nodded to Kara. “Fly safe,” he said, before walking away. Winn didn't look at Kara's expression as she watched him go. He really, really didn't need that as one of his last memories.

Kara took one step forward, then another. As she approached the windows, her pace became faster and faster, until it was almost a run. “Don't look down,” she said as they were almost at the edge.

“Don't worry,” said Winn, watching her golden hair wave about. “I won't.” And then Kara surged forward, and instead of the CatCo ceiling above him, there was bright blue sky and cold wind blowing past. Despite what he'd said, he glanced around, but the blurry rush of buildings made him instantly feel nauseous, so he kept his eyes on Kara. She had her gaze fixed forward, and he could see her red cape tumbling in the wind behind her, and Winn thought, only a little hysterically, _Maybe dying’s not so bad_. If nothing else, he'd gotten to fly. But he could feel his eyelids drooping and the wet warmth soaking his shirt, dripping away down to the streets far below. How much time had passed since all this began? Too much. Barely any. Somehow it was both.

“Hey,” he said, barely audible over the wind rushing by. “Could you...could you do me a favor?”

Kara didn't respond, and Winn wondered if he’d reached the limit of her super-hearing. He opened his mouth again, but before he could repeat a word, Kara nodded. “What is it?” she said in a loud voice. Now that they were further away from most of Non’s kryptonite, she sounded more like herself, but even so, Winn noticed an exhausted sigh behind her words. And she definitely wasn't flying as fast as her normal speed. Stupid kryptonite. It was hurting them both.

“Just, uh, talk to me,” said Winn. “I don't care what it's about, but I need...” He faltered, feeling like his head was stuffed with cotton. “I need something to concentrate on,” he continued weakly.

Kara frowned a little, though she still didn't look down at him. “Winn,” she said, “you won't --” She stopped speaking for a moment. A tear fell from her eye, but it was gone in a second, whisked away by the wind. “You won't hear anything unless I yell like this,” she continued, and that waver was back in her voice, and it wasn't _right_.

“Kara, I always hear every word you say,” Winn murmured, meaning it with every fiber of his being. After all, Kara was carrying him through the sky for miles and miles without giving in to the kryptonite’s effects. The least he could do was just listen to her.

Kara took a deep breath and, after another sigh, began speaking. She didn’t stop as the buildings of National City began to appear less and less frequently, replaced by empty air as they flew out into the desert. It was all one long, rambling speech, switching from topic to topic wildly based on anything passing through her thoughts. A lot of it Winn had already heard from previous conversations -- how much she loved pot stickers, the first time she'd seen snow, her favorite memory from back on Krypton -- but, in a way, that made it easier for his mind to grab on to. It was comforting. Familiar. And for awhile, it worked. He was still alive. Surely he could close his eyes, just for a second. Nobody would blame him, he’d fought the best he could. It was okay.

Darkness enveloped him like an old friend. Nothing about it hurt. And Winn knew that pretty soon -- scratch that, _very_ soon -- the electrical and chemical signals in his brain would all fade, and his existence would be wiped from the universe, forever. No more Winn. It was unfair, of course, but he had to be honest with himself, and the honest truth was that he just wasn't strong enough. He was going to die.

There was only one thing he had left to do.

“Kara,” Winn said, possibly. He _thought_ he was speaking, but speech required energy and breath, two things he had in short supply. Kara was still talking, at any rate, but her words were now only a vague murmur to him, masked by the dull roar of his pulse in his ears. But she was there, and he wasn’t alone, and he was going to say these words somehow. That counted for something. Didn't it?

“I was -- I think I did --” No, no past tense. It was accurate at this point, almost, but there was something wrong about it. It would ruin the whole thing. Best to keep it simple.

“I love you,” said (or thought, or felt, or imagined) Winn. “Thanks for letting me.”

He waited, but there was no response. He only heard the wind, and his thready heartbeat, and somewhere far away, Kara's voice. Dimly, he felt them slowing, descending. Maybe she’d gotten to the DEO in time. Maybe she’d heard him. Or maybe it was nothing at all, and he was doomed, and Kara would never know.

But he had to hope. There wasn't anything else left in him.

The wind faded. Kara faded. Winn floated, feeling warm, listening to his heart. It was peaceful, until eventually, he couldn't hear it anymore. There was only the dark.

And, after a time, there wasn't even that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh nooooooooooooooooooooo
> 
> Okay, first of all: apologies for being really delayed with this, but I honestly did not think this chapter was going to wind up as long as it did. However, as I was writing I kept thinking of things to add or fiddle with or explain, and one thing led to another, and suddenly I found myself writing two thousand words in a caffeine-induced rush on Christmas Eve. You know, as you do. :P Also, this chapter involved a lot of research, but instead of the fun comic book Easter egg type of research it was more along the lines of Googling "treating shrapnel wounds" and "penetrative chest trauma" and "circulatory shock" -- again, as you do. (I tried not taking too many liberties with the medical stuff, but I probably got something or other wrong, so sorry about that too.)
> 
> Secondly: yup, that happened. I am dead certain (get it? oh, I made myself sad) that by the end of the season, _something_ bad will happen to Winn. Given his character parallels to Eddie Thawne of _The Flash_ and Tommy Merlyn of _Arrow_ (i.e. best friend of the hero, on the wrong side of the love triangle, has the same name as a comics villain but is only related to that villain in the show), all signs point toward a heroic sacrifice being that bad thing. I'm not saying I _want_ it to happen (c'mon, I love Winn), but...
> 
> Anyways. Like last chapter, the specifics of my speculation for how this goes down (that is, Kara vs Non and Astra, saving Kara from a kryptonite bomb) are probably not gonna play out that way in the show, but hey, it's fun to guess! The actual kernel of idea has been in my head basically since I started writing this (which is why, you may have noted, every chapter before this has some reference to Winn dying in a non-literal respect), and originally it was gonna be the end of the fic, hence the deliberate mirroring of the start of chapter 1. But then I realized that would make for an awful Christmas present and my friend Jillian (the one I am gifting with this) would literally never speak to me again. So do not fear -- there is one more chapter, and it will answer some other things, and there will be happiness, of a sort. 
> 
> The one Easter egg I did manage to put in: "Dying's not so bad" is a grammatically-altered reference to the song "Dying Ain't So Bad" from the musical _Bonnie and Clyde_ , aka the _other_ quasi-historical Broadway musical Jeremy Jordan was in. I highly recommend checking it out, it's got some solid tunes and you can watch Jordan be the complete polar opposite of Winn. (Given how many members of _Supergirl_ 's cast have been involved with musical-related things, I'd be shocked and distraught if they never do an actual musical episode, but that's another discussion entirely!)
> 
> Happy holidays to you all if you're celebrating, and happy it's-almost-the-end-of-the-year if you aren't. Thank you, so so much, for reading and commenting and kudos-ing (that's not a verb but who cares). This is now probably the longest single work I've written, so that's pretty cool! I'm gonna do my damn best to finish this thing before the show comes back. Stay tuned.


	6. vi

Winn woke up.

This was unexpected.

On the whole, Winn would not have called himself a religious person. Much of this was thanks to his upbringing -- his parents never cared much for religion either, especially his father, who could be (and often was) loudly and obnoxiously vocal on the subject during the winter months. But even after Winn had cut off ties to his family, he still mostly ignored delving into what he thought of as the Big Questions of the universe, capitals and all, because he simply didn’t feel the need to. Frankly, he had enough to worry about already. Winn faced his days with the cheerfully indifferent optimism that said whatever the answers to those Big Questions were, he couldn’t do a thing about it, so he should act the best he could in this life and whenever he happened to die, things would just sort of...work themselves out. Reincarnation, eternal paradise, void of nothingness, whatever. He’d find out when he got there.

But if _this_ was truly the afterlife that awaited everyone, it definitely wasn’t worth all the hype.

Winn glanced around blearily. Everything around him was white -- floor, walls, bedsheets, blankets, fluorescent lights in the ceiling. To his left, a bag of clear fluid hung from a hooked pole, with a tube leading down to -- Winn followed it with his eyes -- his forearm, where someone had helpfully taped it. An IV feed, that was what it was called. Various oddly-shaped bits of plastic poked out of the tube a few inches from where it thinned and connected to some other appliance, which was the thing actually inserting his arm. It didn’t particularly hurt, Winn noted, it only felt a bit cold.

He wiggled his arm and dull pain bloomed on the left side of his chest, making him wince. Actually, now that he really paid attention, even breathing hurt, though it was more of an omnipresent ache beneath all the bandages. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, he realized abruptly. Another tube poked out from the bandages on his right side, its hollow interior slightly stained yellow and red. Mercifully, Winn couldn’t see where it went beyond the edge of the bed. Some wired gadget attached to his right thumb led up to a thin screen displaying a bunch of numbers and moving jagged lines, which Winn recognized from countless hours of watching medical dramas as a heart rate and blood pressure monitor.

So: pain, tubes, bandages, beeping machinery. It was fairly obvious by now that this wasn’t the afterlife (or if it was, there were some serious bugs that needed to be fixed). It was just a hospital room. A very _drab_ hospital room, certainly, but not one without its quirks. For one thing, there weren’t any windows. Winn was almost sure hospital rooms had to have windows, though he didn’t have any prior experience to back up his assumption. For another, most of the wall directly in front of him was taken up by a huge mirror. Facing his reflection directly for the first time, Winn watched himself frown. God, he looked _terrible_ \-- pale, gaunt, ragged. His dark hair, a sharp contrast to the whiteness of everything else, stuck up in messy tufts, and Winn resisted the urge to pat it down.

All things considered, though, he was glad to be in this odd place, with tubes feeding into/out of him and aches in his chest and his face like death warmed over, because it meant one very simple thing: he was alive.

“I’m alive,” Winn said aloud. His voice was raspy, and he swallowed before repeating more slowly, “I am alive.” The words echoed around his mind, where they joined an impossibly warm and light feeling that started in his chest before suffusing through his whole body. And Winn laughed. His aches flared up into real, actual, astonishing pain, and he kept laughing despite it, because he was _alive_ , and it was fantastic, and Kara had managed to save him yet again.

Wait, _Kara_ \--

Suddenly, there was a loud _click_ that came from the door at the far end of the room. It opened after a second, and inside walked Alex Danvers, wearing a labcoat over her usual dark attire. Her face was all business for a moment, but when her eyes landed on Winn they lit up. “Hey, you’re awake,” she said with a friendly smile. Beyond the door lay a dimly lit hallway, which quickly disappeared as Alex shut the door and stepped closer to the bed. “How do you feel?” she continued, glancing in quick succession at the monitor, the chest tube, and the IV line.

“Where’s Kara?” Winn immediately asked, staring at her with an intensity that would have surprised himself if he didn’t need to know the answer so badly. The heart rate monitor started to beep faster.

“Doing her job,” said Alex, “though I’m not sure which one right at this moment, assistant or superhero.” Her voice softened. “She’s fine, don’t worry.”

Winn let out a sigh. He was silent for a moment, letting the relief flow through him, until a sudden realization prickled at the back of his mind. “I’m in the DEO headquarters?” he said.

“Yep,” replied Alex with a nod. “Underground, so…” She pointed vaguely towards the walls. “No windows.”  
  
“And the mirror?”

“Oh, well,” said Alex, frowning. “This is an interrogation room, usually. We've...we had a break-out while Kara was fighting her aunt and uncle. There were a lot of injured people.” She looked down at the tiled floor and ran a hand through her hair. Winn noticed she had dark smudges under her eyes, and he wondered when she'd last slept. “I've got enough of a medical background to be able to help out,” Alex continued. “Try sitting upright.”

Winn leaned up and forward. It took more effort than he was used to. “Wait,” he said, a little strained, “is that -- a two-way mirror? Have you been watching me?”

“Winn, just because you're in a top-secret government bunker doesn't mean you have to be paranoid,” Alex replied, the corner of her mouth turning up. She was joking. She was probably joking. “Director Henshaw told me you were awake, and I thought you'd want to see a familiar face.” Was she joking?

“And how did _he_ know?” Winn said, just a tad suspicious.

Alex paused before answering, “Probably someone saw your vitals change and told him.” She fished a stethoscope from one of the labcoat’s pockets and inserted the earpieces. “I'm gonna listen to your lungs now, okay? Breathe deeply when I tell you.” Winn, never one to disobey a doctor, complied as Alex placed the stethoscope at various points on his chest and back. He'd seen more of this side of Alex -- the professional badass secret agent -- ever since Kara started working with the DEO, but it was still strange to juxtapose it with the Alex he was used to, the one who watched old sci-fi B-movies with him and Kara and made stupid jokes and sometimes looked at him like she knew _exactly_ what his intentions were with her sister. Winn was, as yet, unable to figure out what she thought of those intentions, but the fact that she could probably kill him with one hand didn't do much to alleviate his concerns.

“Okay, good news,” said Alex, sticking the stethoscope back in her pocket. “Your lungs are doing much better. It'll take X-rays to confirm it, but I think they've almost entirely drained and reinflated.” She looked down below the side of the bed to wherever the chest tube went and grimaced. “Yuck, that's definitely going to biological waste disposal.”

_That_ brought Winn out of his thoughts with a snap. “So, uh,” he said uncertainly, “you guys didn't, y’know...put any weird alien tech inside of me, right? Not that that _wouldn't_ be cool, obviously, but --”

Alex interrupted him with a snort. “Absolutely not. No offense, but all the ‘alien tech’ we have is too valuable to leave inside an IT guy.” She paused, then added, “And most of it would kill you.”

“Right,” said Winn, not knowing what else to say to that. God, his life was weird.

“Some of it helped with the surgery, though, not to mention with repairing your broken ribs and reviving you --”

“Wait, I was _dead_?” Winn exclaimed.

“Technically, yes,” Alex said slowly. “You went into cardiac arrest right when Kara brought you, and even after that, it was touch and go for a while.” She shook her head, almost in disbelief. “They pulled more than twenty kryptonite fragments out of you. You're lucky to be alive, Winn.”

“It wasn't luck,” Winn said firmly, “it was your sister.”

“Very true.” Alex gave him a flat look. “If I'd been there, I would have told her not to do something so stupid and risky.” She smiled wryly. “Good thing I wasn't there.”

Winn frowned. “Yeah, but she's -- she's okay, right?”

“I told you, Kara is fine. No lasting effects from the kryptonite exposure. Just yesterday she saved a boat from capsizing. And she did another interview as Supergirl, though --” here Alex's voice became more annoyed -- “it took a _lot_ of effort to get Cat Grant to agree not to expose the DEO’s existence.”

Winn almost asked her to elaborate on that, but there was a different ache in him now that didn't have anything to do with his lungs. His frown grew and he remained silent.

Alex, after a moment, leaned closer. “Winn,” she said gently, looking him in the eyes, “you saved Kara's life. You have nothing to beat yourself up over.”

“It's not that, it's just…” Winn stopped. “I miss her,” he finally said. And that was true, of course, he missed her fiercely. He wanted to be back in CatCo, doing his small part in helping her save the day. That wasn't quite the entire reason behind the tangled mess of emotions he was feeling, though.

The truth was, he hadn't been expecting to live. He'd accepted death, made his peace, said goodbye in his own fashion. And it was great that he _was_ still alive, there was so much still to live _for_ , but it also meant that things were right back where they'd been before he'd (almost) died -- where they'd been for a long time, really. He was in love with his best friend and couldn't say a thing. It had taken the certainty of death to push him towards a real conversation, and that had been seven words before losing consciousness. Come to think of it, he still didn't know if she'd heard him. And Winn wasn't sure what scared him more: that nothing had changed, or that everything would.

Alex was eyeing him with some concern. “I'm gonna -- I need to switch out your saline solution,” she said, breaking the silence. “Probably time for another blood transfusion. I think you having AB blood saved you almost as much as Kara did,” she added with a laugh.

“Hah, yeah,” Winn replied lightly. “Lucky me.”

“Just good genes. I'll be back in a while.” Alex took a few steps towards the door, then stopped and turned. “Make sure you keep taking deep breaths,” she advised. “And cough, too. I want to get that chest tube out of you so you're up and walking as soon as possible.”

“Yes ma'am, Dr. Danvers,” Winn said, a cheeky grin on his face.

Alex rolled her eyes even as she smiled. Or was that a smirk? “Don't push it,” she said.

The grin turned into an embarrassed flinch. “Right. Sorry, Alex,” said Winn. Why couldn’t he just talk like a normal person?

Alex didn’t respond, instead slipping a key card from her pocket and swiping it over the door handle. The door unlocked with the same click that had heralded her entrance. Alex gave him a small wave, opened the door, and a second later the room was empty. Except for him, of course.

Winn, still sitting upright, breathed in and out deeply. It helped, and not just with his lungs. It was quite relaxing, actually. Counting the seconds for each inhale and exhale gave him something to do, something to think about other than all the things he very much _didn’t_ want to think about. He wished he had his laptop -- although on second thought, it wouldn’t do much good considering he could barely move his arms. _I’ll ask Alex for a TV when she comes back_ , Winn resolved, slowly leaning back on the pillows. _A smart TV. With Netflix. If the DEO can bring me back to life...they’ve gotta have that._

Already he was beginning to feel drowsy. Unconnected thoughts and memories came and went through his mind, and Winn closed his eyes and let them. Playing video games in Cat’s office on her huge wall of screens, with Kara acting as lookout -- and the one time she actually played with and subsequently annihilated him. Game night with her and James, arguing passionately but good-naturedly over who, exactly, had won Monopoly. The bright, beaming grin she’d had on her face when she walked out of the abandoned toy warehouse, followed by a trail of young, awestruck children. _I wonder what happened with Non_ , Winn thought, and then, with a tiny smile, _I bet she kicked his ass._

With all these small moments stacked up, it was easy to love her, easy to be in love. Sometimes that easiness outweighed all the other difficulties -- hiding, looking on from afar, feeling second-best. Sometimes it didn’t. It was a balancing act, one that would inevitably fall one way or the other. But Winn wasn’t thinking about that. He was just drifting, in the dark, almost sinking into sleep --

The door clicked, and presumably opened, though Winn still had his eyes shut. There was a feeling in the air of a conversation that had suddenly been cut off. “Oh,” said a voice -- Alex’s. “He wasn’t asleep when I left, I swear --

“I’m awake, I’m awake,” Winn mumbled. Had he slept? He must have dozed off, just for a few minutes. “Hey, Alex, can the DEO spare me a TV or something?” he continued in a louder voice as he returned more fully to consciousness. “‘Cause I don’t know if you noticed, but this room is the most boring --” And then he stopped, because his eyes had finally opened and he saw that there was another person in the room who was not Alex Danvers -- the only person in the world who he wanted to see.

Kara was wearing dark blue, though it was just a sweater rather than her costume. She had her hair tied back, and her glasses slightly askew, which she adjusted with the hand that wasn’t holding the bundle of flowers. After that, she just stood and looked over him for a moment, almost like she couldn’t quite believe it either.

And then the smile broke over her face, the one he knew and loved so well, and Winn knew that whatever else had happened, or would happen, it was all worth it just for this one moment.

Kara dropped the flowers -- their purplish-blue color nearly matched her sweater, Winn noted -- at the foot of the bed and immediately pulled him into a tight, warm embrace. Despite its suddenness, Winn could feel that she took great care in how strongly she squeezed. She was probably reluctant to hurt him. Honestly, though, Winn’s ribs could have been on fire with pain and he wouldn’t care.

Winn glanced over Kara’s shoulder to Alex, raising his eyebrows questioningly. Alex pointed to Kara. “You looked like you needed to be cheered up. So I brought the master of cheer.” A smile crossed her face, almost as warm as the hug he was getting. “Surprise.” She walked back over to the door, gave him a wordless look that nonetheless said _Don’t say I never did you any favors_ , and soon enough she’d left the room to the two of them.

After a very, very, _very_ long time had passed, Winn muttered, not unhappily, “Okay, losing oxygen now,” which got Kara to let go of him. She sat down on the edge of the bed, near his IV feed, and looked down at him, still beaming.

“Sorry, sorry,” she said. “It’s just -- it’s so good to see you, Winn! Awake, I mean,” she amended. “The other times I came you were asleep ‘cause they had you on so many painkillers, and they wouldn’t let me in the same room as you until they were sure it was clear.” It didn’t take much guesswork to figure out who “they” were or what “clear” meant.

Winn paused. “Okay, so... _how_ long have I been out? Alex didn’t really say.”

“Oh, you know…” Kara stalled, before saying, “Three days.” At Winn’s shocked expression, Kara continued quickly, “Don’t worry, I told Cat and James and everyone else that you’re not dead. Actually, you’re kind of famous now.” She stuck a fist in the air in a dramatic pose. “The man who saved Supergirl!” she said with a giggle.

“I think you should be getting more credit for saving me,” Winn said, “not to mention the whole city. And the world, I’m guessing, seeing as we’re not all bowing to our new Kryptonian overlords. How bad did you and your aunt kick Non’s ass, anyways?”

Kara’s face fell at that, and Winn frowned. Evidently, not even dying could change his unerring ability to say things in exactly the wrong way. “It -- he’s not going to be a problem for anyone,” she said quietly. “Neither is...is Astra.”

Winn decided, during the silence that subsequently filled the room, that this was not a wise topic to pursue. He’d find out what had happened eventually, either from Alex or from Kara herself when she wanted to talk about it. Now wasn’t the time for either of them to be sad. “So, uh,” he said, mind racing to find something to change the subject, “did you end up ordering that new phone for Cat?”

After a moment, Kara laughed, though Winn noted it was still slightly subdued. “Oh, yep,” she said, “right when I went back to work. Then the second thing she told me to do was get the broken phone framed and put up on the wall. You should have seen the look on her face when Alex and Hank told her they had to take it as evidence.”

“Evidence?”

“Yeah, the DEO had CatCo on lockdown for a whole day, analyzing the -- you know, everything there. Alex was just telling me that Non had to have been --” Kara stopped for a moment, then shook her head. “He had help with his...kryptonite bomb-thing, from someone with advanced technology and a grudge against Supergirl.” She gave Winn a significant look.  
  
A few seconds later, realization hit, and Winn groaned. “Oh no. Don’t tell me. Maxwell Lord.”

Kara nodded, frowning. “The one and only, as he’d say. There’s no way to actually prove it and get him arrested, but…”

“God, I can’t believe I actually used to look up to -- to that slimy toad,” Winn said, more dejected than angry. All his heroes seemed destined to disappoint him. _Well_ , he corrected himself, remembering who was sitting next to him, _all but one_. Nonetheless, he scowled. He would have crossed his arms too, if he could.

Kara nudged him gently. “Hey,” she said, an almost sly smile on her face, “I know what’ll cheer you up. Master of cheer, remember?”

“What?”

“Well, you’re famous,” Kara began. “And lots of news outlets are asking for interviews.”  
  
“That’s exactly why I took an unassuming IT job,” Winn interrupted, not a little sarcastically. “To get famous. Truly, I am living the dream.”

“Ssh, let me finish. Cat’s got first dibs, obviously --”

Winn groaned again. “Cat Grant is going to interview me? How is _that_ supposed to make me happy?”

“I said let me finish!” Kara exclaimed. “The cheer is coming, just trust me!” She took a breath and re-entered her explanation more calmly. “Cat might have first dibs, but I was talking to another reporter who said he’d love to come and talk to you too.” She eyed him carefully, her smile turning into a grin. “He’s from Metropolis. Works for _The Daily Planet_. And he just so happens to be...my cousin.”

Winn stared at her in disbelief. Then he gasped -- actually, honest-to-God gasped. “Superman?” he said in a tiny, strangled voice. “Your cousin is -- I’m going to meet _Superman_? The guy who, who, who…” He trailed off before repeating, for the third time: “ _Superman?!_ ”

Kara snorted. “No need to get so excited. Clark’s actually kind of a nerd when you get to know him.” She kept grinning at him and said warmly, “You guys will get along great.”

“Kara, I just -- ” Winn shook his head slowly, trying to wrap his head around the fact that he’d get to talk to _Superman_. “ _Wow_ ,” he eventually said. “Maybe I should save your life more often.”

“Well, I hope you won’t have to,” said Kara. “I mean, thank you, obviously, but…” She stopped and glanced away, frowning. “I was so, so worried about you,” she said in a soft voice. “When I landed and I realized I couldn’t hear your heartbeat any more --” Abruptly, she drew him into another hug, albeit shorter than the first. Even after Kara let go, they were both silent for a time.

“Hey,” Winn eventually said, “you saved me too, remember? And _you_ had to do all the hard work. All I did was get in front of you.”

“Yeah, and then you kept fighting for your life,” Kara pressed. “That must have been hard, too.”

“Not as much as you’d think,” Winn said slowly. “I mean, you were there. If you hadn’t been talking to me, there would have been nothing for me to fight for.”

Kara didn’t say anything for a moment. There was something in her eyes, flickering for a moment before disappearing. Regret? Reluctance? Pity? But it was gone, and Winn forgot about it as she said with a laugh, “The talking helped me too, believe me. I mean, I don’t know how much you heard, but...definitely a lot better than flying in silence.”

“I think I got most of it,” said Winn. _The question is_ , he thought, _did you hear me?_ He was almost sure he knew the answer to that, but he had to confirm it somehow, and now was as good of a time as any. “So after I asked you to talk to me,” he said, trying to keep his voice casual, “did you...did I say anything else? My memory’s still a bit fuzzy.”

Kara squinted, recalling their flight. “No,” she said. “But I was kind of concentrating on flying and talking to you and not letting the kryptonite get to me, so I just might not have heard if you said something…?” The end of her sentence rose up in a question.

But, well. If that was where things fell, that was where they fell. “Never mind then,” said Winn, shaking his head. “It was probably nothing.” Of course it was. Back to square one. He felt something like relief. But it felt like disappointment also.

“You look exhausted,” Kara said, completely right in more ways she knew. “Why don’t I come back in a few hours? I’ll bring games. And James.” She snorted at her own rhyme and continued, “We can have our own game night here with the DEO.”

“Yeah, okay,” said Winn, making himself smile. “You know I’m not going anywhere. Get back to Supergirl-ing.”

“It’s a never-ending battle,” Kara said cheerfully, leaning past him and grabbing the flowers from the foot of the bed. She glanced from Winn to the flowers and back. “I’ll ask Alex to get some water for these irises,” she said, gesturing toward him with the bundle, “and something to put them it. And a dresser to put them on. And a clock. And a TV.” Kara looked around the room as she said this, frowning. “This place could use a little more...everything.”

“You said it,” replied Winn. “At least I’ve got flowers. They’re --” He stumbled over his words for a moment. “They look really pretty. Thanks.”

Winn assumed this would be the point where she stood up and left, but instead she remained seated, holding the irises in one hand and looking down at him with -- so it seemed to him -- no small amount of fondness. “What?” he finally said, squinting at her quizzically.

“Nothing,” Kara said quietly, after a pause. “I’m just...you’re alive, and awake, and we’re talking. And I’m -- happy.”

Winn returned her smile with one of his own. “Well, if you’re happy, I’m happy,” he said, because it was true.

Kara leaned closer to him. Briefly, Winn thought he was about to receive a third hug and braced himself appropriately -- his ribs were really starting to burn a bit -- but instead of reaching around him, she moved one hand up and, very gently, smoothed his hair back. Winn opened his mouth to say something, though he wasn’t sure what. Before he could do that, Kara moved her head up, out of eye contact. He felt a soft touch of warmth bloom, for a moment, in the middle of his forehead.

It was at that moment that Winn’s brain short-circuited.

Or at least, that’s how it felt, because -- Kara had kissed him. On the forehead, yes, but -- a _kiss_. From _Kara_. For _him!_ And that was more than his mind could process, almost, except for the tiny voice at the back of his head repeating, over and over, _It doesn’t mean anything, it doesn’t mean anything_. But it was something tangible, certainly, something to be cherished, and Winn smiled anyway.

Kara drew back only a second later. She was not smiling. Instead, she looked at him with a tumultuous mix of emotions crossing her face -- panic, uncertainty, regret. “I -- okay, I should, I should go,” she stammered. “Sorry, I -- I’m going.” Still holding the irises, she stood up straight and turned her back toward him, fumbling with her empty hand in the pocket of her sweater, presumably for a keycard. So she could leave, Winn realized, brought back to reality with a crash. She’d leave, and then she’d come back some hours later, with games and a TV and everything else she’d promised, and they’d both laugh as they silently and mutually agreed to never speak of what had just happened ever again. It wasn’t a new phenomena -- the same thing had occurred after that post-Thanksgiving kiss -- but it hurt because it wasn’t new, and nothing would ever change. Not unless --

The heart rate monitor to his side was beeping frantically. Winn watched her walk away from him, and very simply, something inside him snapped.

“Kara, I love you,” Winn said. “Not just, like, in the best-friends way,” he added hastily, “I...I actually, really love you.” He was already babbling and making a mess of it, but really, that wasn’t surprising. It was always going to be like this -- no preparation, no grand romantic gesture, just a sudden and overwhelming desire to stop lying and _say_ something. And now was the right time, if any time could truly be the “right time,” because they hadn’t yet completely re-entered the status quo of their lives, and nobody was going to interrupt them, and she’d kissed him, and he couldn’t see her face, and he’d been _dead_ for God’s sake, and even _that_ hadn’t changed anything about their friendship or the light and easy way they’d talked to each other, so this surely couldn’t either. Or so he thought, as he finished speaking.

The way Kara froze in place, and then the way her shoulders slumped, ever so slightly, told him that that was probably wrong.

Very slowly, almost reluctantly, Kara turned around, and there was something deeply, impossibly sad in her eyes when she looked to Winn. She opened her mouth and said, carefully, “I know.”

Silence filled the room for a long moment. “You --” Winn stopped. He blinked. Conceivably, there were two ways he could respond to this: with understanding, or with anger. However, Winn instead opted for the third choice available to him, which was to blurt out the lone, solitary, completely absurd thought running through his head.

“Did you...did you just Han Solo me?” he finally said, in a tone of complete and utter disbelief.

There was another uncertain pause, during which Winn had just enough time to think _Why?!_ at himself. And then, abruptly, Kara began to laugh. Not an unkind laugh -- obvious, given it was Kara laughing, but encouraging nonetheless. It was the kind of laughter that bounces around and fills the room it occupies with a light and airy warmth. There was genuine amusement behind that laughter, and surprise, and perhaps even some relief, despite everything. Winn was pretty sure he knew why.

Things were going to change. As soon as Kara stopped laughing, things were going to change, because the two of them were going to have to really, actually, finally sit down (or lie back, in Winn’s case) and have this conversation. It would be difficult. There’d be stumbling over words (mostly from Winn), and many apologies (also mostly from Winn), and lots and lots of long, awkward silences (which was at least something they could both have). And after they were done talking, things would be different, possibly for the better or possibly for the worst. Honesty and openness gained, casual and easy conversations lost. There might even be coldness and distance between them, for a while. Maybe.

But some things don’t change between two best friends, even though one’s a superhero and the other one loves her, even when she saves him a dozen times and he saves her once, even after they both say what they desperately don’t want the other to hear -- some things don’t change, and never would.

He was there. She was there. They were together, one way or another. And that was all that really mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At last, we reach an ending...of a sort. And there's happiness, of a sort. Told you! ;) 
> 
> Truthfully, I struggled a fair amount with this chapter -- not so much with the dialogue between Winn and Kara (actually, everything from when she enters the room to 'Maybe I should save your life more often' was probably the easiest time I've had writing anything in this fic), but with what to put in and what to leave out. For example, there was initially gonna be a LOT more medical stuff between Alex and Winn, and then I realized that's not what y'all care about. :P (Some fun facts, though: chest tubes are standard operating procedure after lung surgery, as is taking deep breaths and coughing. The weird bits of plastic on the IV feed are to put in medicine via syringe. Also, Winn can't move his arms much because the kryptonite punched all those holes in his pectoralis muscles, which flex/adduct your humerus aka they bring your arm forward and closer to your body. He's gonna need a lot of physical therapy. Thanks, anatomy class!)
> 
> More importantly than that, though, I didn't know how to end it. Actually, originally I went beyond the confession to the actual conversation afterwards, where Winn's like "sorry I didn't say anything, I didn't want to lose you" and Kara's like "I'm your best friend and we're gonna work through this" and then she kisses him on the forehead and Winn has hope that things will be okay between them, yadda yadda yadda. But it kind of felt...empty? And not good? So after much inner debate, I cut it all (except for the forehead kiss, which I rewrote and moved to where it is now, because who can't resist forehead kisses), because I realized that this fic, in addition to being about Winn in love with Kara, is also about Winn reaching the point where he really, finally tells Kara how he feels -- not just 'cos he's dying and it's the last thing he'll ever do, but actually making the choice. And he got there, so that's where it ends.
> 
> I know, I know -- it's cheating and it makes things ambiguous. Did Kara actually hear Winn during their flight? (No, she's known he loved her for awhile -- I mean, the dude's not super subtle about it, y'know.) Does she reciprocate his more-than-best-friends feelings? (Again, no, but I guess that depends on how platonic you think forehead kisses are.) Is Winn ever actually going to get over her? (Maybe, but not for a really long time.) But I'm content to leave this where it is -- two friends about to have a difficult conversation that will no doubt change a lot of things between them, but not everything. They won't live happily ever after, because nobody does, but there will be happiness, and they will live. (That's paraphrased from Stephen King, don't sue me.)
> 
> Anyways. Any and all echoes of words/phrases/sentences in previous chapters are intentional, I assure you. It's not because I'm lazy, I promise! I just felt that because this is The Big One, where the thing actually happens (i.e. Winn saying, to Kara, that he loves her), it should hold some traits in common with/parallels to all the other times that the thing almost happens, or indirectly happens, or whatever. (Yeah, I know by now it's not quite "five times Winn says I love you and one time Kara hears" but hey, I had to make it snappy.)
> 
> And some more minor notes: 'Hank Henshaw' totally noticed Winn waking up with his Martian telepathy, but it's not like Alex can _say_ that. Winn's suspicion of the DEO may or may not be influenced by his watching _The X-Files_ religiously during his youth, a headcanon I (alas) couldn't find a place to shoehorn in. That memory of the kids walking out of the toy warehouse is another reference to Winn's dad, which is why Winn's thoughts subsequently switch over to thinking about Non (they're both supervillains). The unspoken fates of Non and Astra (aka what I think will happen in the show) are that Non is somehow sent back to the Phantom Zone, but Astra dies during the fight/as a result. And, of course, Kara "Han Solo-ing" Winn is a dig at the famous exchange between Leia and Han in the fifth Star Wars movie. I couldn't resist.
> 
> Thank you for reading, and commenting, and giving kudos. Thank you for sticking with this weird, messy, slightly (ok, mostly) self-indulgent thing I wrote (and all of my long-winded ending notes). Thank you for being part of this fandom with me. It is a delight to be here, and you are all wonderful. Thank you, thank you, thank you so much. <3 Happy new year.


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